The Mindscape.
It was a mysterious realm whose location no one but John knew.
It existed because of John, a dream that would never end in waking.
This place also possessed unfathomable abilities.
It could cross the boundaries of space and enter anyone's dreams.
"You want me to help wake him?"
The voice rang out from every direction, but no one appeared.
John nodded and called out, "Use your ability to cross between dreams."
"Heh."
The voice chuckled. "As you wish."
The white vanished before John's eyes.
He appeared in reality again.
Looking at the anxious Thor before him, John spread his hands. "I did what I could. The rest is up to fate."
Asgard.
Loki had used the Casket of Ancient Winters in a sneak attack, successfully freezing Heimdall, Asgard's powerful gatekeeper.
Even frozen, Heimdall's eyes and ears remained unaffected.
He could hear Thor calling to him.
But as an artifact of Jotunheim, the Casket of Ancient Winters held him bound with freezing power he could not break free of.
He roared within the ice.
The ice was like cast steel, restraining every inch of his body.
After learning that the Casket of Ancient Winters in his hands was incomplete, Loki had taken precautions.
He had increased its output when freezing Heimdall.
The ice was so thick that even Heimdall could not break it immediately.
A Frost Giant from Jotunheim assigned to stand guard bent down, apparently hearing something.
An ice blade formed in his hand as the Frost Giant watched the gatekeeper menacingly.
Just then, the eyes of the two giants turned white.
Then they both pressed their hands against Heimdall.
The freezing power flowed along the two Frost Giants' arms and into their bodies.
Despite being Frost Giants themselves, they rapidly froze solid.
A crack appeared in the ice imprisoning Heimdall.
A sharp cracking sound rang out.
Heimdall broke free, panting as he looked around.
Confusion filled his face. Even someone who watched over the Nine Realms could not understand the Frost Giants' bizarre actions.
"They were being controlled."
Heimdall's expression grew grave. Who had controlled them?
"Heimdall, we need you!"
Thor's voice rang in his ears again, and Heimdall knew this was no time to dwell on it.
Dragging his body, injured by the Casket of Ancient Winters, he approached the Bifrost's control console.
He inserted his sword and activated the mechanism.
The brilliantly colored Bifrost shot out.
A vortex appeared in the sky once more, descending toward the ground.
Thor's furrowed brow finally relaxed. A smile appeared on his face as he said his final goodbye to Jane.
"I'll come back for you." Thor gazed deeply into Jane's eyes.
Just as Jane thought he would kiss her, Thor placed a gentle kiss on... the back of her hand.
Jane stared. I was all ready, and this is what you give me?
I don't mess around!
She grabbed Thor's head and kissed him forcefully.
The two kissed passionately, oblivious to everyone around them.
"You look like a pair of sea lions fighting over a grape," John quipped from beside them.
The door's already open, and you're still standing there kissing.
Thor waved to John with a smile. "I'll remember your help, John."
"It was an equivalent exchange, Thor," John said, shaking his head. "Besides, I gained more than you think."
Thor could not understand what John meant, but he had to leave.
He took the Bifrost with his companions.
John kept watching with his vertical pupils, analyzing the Bifrost's operation and the form of its energy bit by bit.
At last, Thor departed, and the sky returned to calm.
Jane remained lost in thought for a long time, waiting for Thor's return.
John quietly withdrew. He still had things to do.
Old Bridge Town.
"Someone's injured here. Call an ambulance."
S.H.I.E.L.D. was clearing the scene while Coulson searched for something.
"Once you find that suit of armor, secure it immediately."
Thor had not taken the terrifying armor away after his battle with the Destroyer.
Though it had not displayed many abilities, its extraterrestrial origin and terrifying destructive power were enough for S.H.I.E.L.D. to spare no effort in acquiring it.
They searched, but found no trace of the Destroyer.
Coulson's head was pounding.
What's going on?
Did the Destroyer run off on its own?
He had considered whether John had put it away, but how could anyone store something that large?
Their search yielded nothing.
This time, they really were screwed.
Mjolnir had been taken away, and the Destroyer Armor was nowhere to be found.
Apart from getting most of the homes destroyed, this operation had achieved nothing.
Coulson sat dejectedly on a mailbox, wondering whether he would face disciplinary action.
Fortunately, no one had died in the incident.
Residents of Old Bridge Town had been injured, but it had not been an outright massacre.
Still, rebuilding Old Bridge Town after these losses would cost considerable money and time.
This was not good news. He could already imagine Fury rapping at three words a second.
After all, his longtime boss was notorious for his "motherfuckers."
"Are you calculating how much compensation you'll have to pay?"
John's voice rang out. Coulson looked around and asked in confusion, "Where were you hiding just now?"
"Is that an important question?" John walked over.
Coulson stopped dwelling on it. Looking at Old Bridge Town, two-thirds of which had been destroyed, he shook his head helplessly. "This will cost a lot of money."
"Relocation costs, public relations costs, construction costs."
At that, Coulson rubbed his brow.
"After all, you can't charge the aliens." John produced a clean chair from somewhere and sat down, gloating. "Just accept your bad luck, Coulson."
"Did you come specifically to laugh at me?" Coulson sighed. "I didn't realize I was so unwelcome in the Wick family."
"To be precise, yes. You really aren't very welcome."
John brushed at a stain on his clothes that he had picked up while fighting the Destroyer.
His blunt words made Coulson sigh again.
"Honestly, even Stark wouldn't mock me like this."
"Stop lying to yourself. He'd humiliate you mercilessly."
John scorned his attempts to comfort himself and his failure to recognize what sort of man Tony Stark was.
But John had not come solely to laugh at poor Coulson.
He took a business card from his pocket and handed it to Coulson.
"What's this?" Coulson accepted the card, reading the name printed on it. "Silverhand Fashion Architecture?"
He carefully recalled the major construction companies, but none matched that name.
"A new Wick venture?"
"A construction company."
John fingered his ring and said calmly, "Haven't you noticed something?"
"What?"
"Superheroes," John said evenly. "Along with superheroes comes superpowered destruction."
"This battle says it all."
He surveyed their surroundings. More than two-thirds of the buildings had been destroyed.
Although Old Bridge Town was not large, the losses were still enormous.
"So the Wicks are moving into construction?" Coulson raised the card. "There are plenty of other construction companies. Maybe I could open it up for bids."
"Wrong." John shook his head. "You'll need it. Once you've figured it out, call the number on there."
"Repairs here would take about three days."
John delivered those words casually, leaving Coulson astonished.
Forget rebuilding a town in three days-it would be difficult even to build a single house.
"We don't want shoddy construction."
"Don't worry. It'll be exactly as it was before," John said, raising an eyebrow. "Remember to ask for the Accident and Disaster Maintenance and Repair Department. They specialize in handling incidents like this."
"As for the price, I doubt S.H.I.E.L.D. is short on money."
John was preparing to enter the construction industry.
More precisely, wizards were entering the construction industry.
Compared with their destructive capabilities, wizards' ability to repair things was even more impressive.
In this world, where superhumans would appear frequently in the future, people needed a team that could repair buildings quickly.
Silverhand Fashion Architecture.
A company established in the magical world.
Even three days to repair Old Bridge Town was a conservative estimate.
An Obscurus had once run rampant in New York, destroying its various districts, and the repairs had taken only a single day.
As the Wizard King, John also had to consider how to connect the magical world with the Muggle world.
Much like Kamar-Taj, whose mysterious sorcerers had largely entered the public eye after Purple Potato appeared.
Wizards also needed to find their place here.
The Wizarding Nation was recognized by the United Nations, though the process of gaining that recognition did not need to be elaborated on.
It was a legitimate member of the United Nations.
Before those major battles began, he needed to use Silverhand Fashion Architecture to establish wizards' standing among the nations.
This was an excellent case in point.
It would lay the groundwork for becoming a company that handled postwar repairs.
By signing agreements with various countries, wizards would be able to use magic legitimately in the Muggle world as well.
"After all, we'll have common enemies," John muttered.
In the face of those powerful aliens, wizards' magic would be nothing worth making a fuss over.
Only when faced with a powerful enemy would humanity unite regardless of race or skin color.
"Living in the sunlight." John narrowed his eyes. Let's start here.
Coulson looked at the business card and said, "I need to get approval."
"Go ahead." John was not worried that Nick Fury would reject it; the man had always wanted to know what he was doing. "By the way, where's my driver?"
"Your driver is in New York."
"I mean the taxi driver."
John looked into the distance, where a yellow taxi was slowly approaching.
When the taxi pulled up, John opened the door and got in.
The driver looked at John, then outside.
He was bewildered. Wasn't John just over by the Bifrost?
Did he fly here?
"Once you've made up your mind, you don't need to find me. Just call the number." John smiled at Coulson. "Trust me, you'll like it."
Coulson watched the taxi pull away.
Staring at the business card in his hand, he picked up his phone and dialed.
"Silverhand Fashion Architecture. How can I help you?" a sweet female voice answered.
"I'm looking for the Accident and Disaster Maintenance and Repair Department," Coulson said, grasping at straws. "A town needs repairs."
"Of course. Please hold."
The taxi was getting easier and easier to drive, though the driver had no idea why.
The driver scratched his head in puzzlement. "Feels like this car's running more smoothly."
John discreetly put away his Wand. "That's good news."
As the yellow taxi drove on, its scratched paintwork began to look as good as new.
The dented bodywork pushed back out, repairing itself.
After traveling some distance, the taxi looked almost exactly as it had when it first arrived in Old Bridge Town.
The driver had been through so much over the past two days that he felt he could write a book about it.
Several hours passed after they left Old Bridge Town.
The taxi returned to New Mexico's smooth highways.
Once they left the gravel road for the smooth highway, even John's expression relaxed.
He glanced at the two metal fragments in his hand.
They had been taken from the Destroyer.
They tugged at each other, straining to join together.
John brought them closer, and the two metal fragments fused into one.
"Looks like I could use this to make some new clothes."
He gazed at the Uru metal, and its structure began to reveal itself before his eyes.
This was another of John's abilities: Gaze.
By gazing at an object for a prolonged period, he could decipher its structure.
Uru metal truly lived up to its reputation as Asgard's special metal. Even John would have to put in considerable effort to see through its structure.
The taxi pulled into an airport in New Mexico.
John put his things away, opened the door, and got out.
He pulled a wad of green bills from his pocket and casually tossed it to the driver.
"Time to head back."
There were still things waiting for him in New York.
John walked toward the airport.
Before you continue